


Eliot Cooks--The Thanksgiving Day Job

by crayonbreakygal



Category: Leverage
Genre: Drama, F/M, Family Dinners, Family Feels, Fluff, Sweet, Thanksgiving Dinner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 10:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16784902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crayonbreakygal/pseuds/crayonbreakygal
Summary: No bad guys, no good guys, no bad guys that were sort of good guys.  Just the five of them.  And food. Lots and lots of food.  Takes place season four.





	Eliot Cooks--The Thanksgiving Day Job

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry this was not done before Thanksgiving. I had much of it done, but it just didn't happen. This is just a bit of fluff that happened after The Experimental Job. Eliot cooks. What else could anyone want?

Eliot Cooks—The Thanksgiving Day Job

Takes place season four.

Dammit. All I do is cook and clean. Cook and clean. Hand one of them a towel to dry the damn dishes, I kept thinking. Then shoo them out of the kitchen so I can finish their damn meal.

Eliot was not in a mood to deal with them. Nate was drinking, Sophie was bitching, Hardison was whining, and Parker was rolling her eyes. He was of a mind to just drop everything and head out of town for the week. Only the weather had turned bad, there was a job to complete, and a damn turkey to fix for these ungrateful beings now sitting at the table.

“And I think you’re wrong,” Sophie voiced as Nate slammed a file down onto the table.

“Why is that? Since day one, you’ve objected to everything I’ve done on this case.”

“Well, it’s not just the case,” Parker pointed out.

“Wait, wait. The intel is solid. We got this.”

Hardison waved his hands in the air, like doing that would stop the talk of why this case was going south way too quickly. Eliot put up his hand like he was raising it in a classroom. No one noticed it until he brought it down on the table, hard. Sophie jumped back a little while the others either sighed or gasped. He couldn’t tell which.

“There is nothing we can do about why this is so fucked up. It’s snowing. We can’t go anywhere. And I have a damn turkey dinner to prep. All of you. Find something else to do. Damn children. I work with damn children.”

“I ain’t no child. I mean, look at these guns,” Hardison commented as he flexed his arm.

“Nevertheless, we need to go forward,” Sophie started, to be interrupted by Nate.

“Eliot’s right.”

Eliot whipped his head around to look at their leader. Most of the time, Nate disagreed with him on principal when Eliot got angry. It was just his way of playing devil’s advocate and make Eliot prove his point.

“And hell just froze over,” Hardison quipped.

“We can’t solve this right now. Once the roads are clear, we can go to neutral corners. Right now, we cannot.”

“Don’t remind me,” Parker said as she put her chin down on the table. “Can’t exactly climb to the roof.”

“A little too cold,” Eliot said to her.

“It’s not the cold. It’s the ice.”

“Frostbite,” Hardison told her.

“Too slippery.”

“So, we put it on hold,” Sophie said as she got up from her chair.

“Twenty-four hours.”

“Nate, it’s Thanksgiving tomorrow.”

Nate rolled his eyes at Eliot’s proclamation. Since it was close to 10 at night, Eliot wanted to get a jump on cooking for the big meal tomorrow, but they kept interrupting him.

“Friday, we start anew. Right now, we leave Eliot alone.”

Why did he keep agreeing in his head with Nate? Eliot definitely didn’t want Nate to know that he agreed with what he was saying. What was on Nate’s agenda that had him being so agreeable? What did he want? There was always something.

“I want a snack,” Parker grumbled. “Can I fix some popcorn?”

Hardison gave him puppy dog eyes, which he knew would get Eliot to agree to at least letting them use the microwave.

“Tea, if I could?” Sophie asked.

Nate waved his filled glass around, showing Eliot he had all that he needed right at that moment. Once everyone had their snacks and drinks, Eliot would be able to start his meal prep for the morning.

“Hey, you fixin’ sweet potatoes?”

And here it goes, Eliot thought.

“You know, the kind with the marshmallows and stuff.”

“And stuff?” Eliot asked.

“Just, you know, what you have for Thanksgiving. Like my nana used to make.”

Eliot sighed. Hardison used his nana to beg Eliot for a favorite.

“I bought some. You’re lucky.”

“Make it seem more like the holidays and whatnot. I just, I miss her. She always tried to make it special. Someone in the neighborhood always gave her a turkey, but it was up to her to come up with all the fixings, like pie and stuffing. The sweet potatoes were always my favorite is all.”

“I got this,” Eliot told the younger man.

“I know you got this. I’m just sayin’.”

“Get out of my kitchen,” Eliot chided as Hardison grabbed an orange soda from the refrigerator.

“It’s like you think you own the place. Oh wait, I do.”

Hardison hadn’t realized that Nate just walked into the area, empty glass in his hand. Oh great, just what Eliot needed. Nate drunk as a skunk or hung over on Thanksgiving.

“It’s my place, Hardison. Why does anyone not remember that?”

“If you did there would be no food. Remember that,” Eliot pointed to the older man.

“I can cook, you know.”

Nate leaned up against the counter. Hmm, Eliot thought. He wasn’t drunk. If Eliot was paying attention much better, he probably would have noticed that Nate had nursed that one drink for most of the night. But it would just be a guess for him since it was only now that he was coming to the conclusion that Nate had cut back his consumption for that day. That didn’t mean the next day he wouldn’t turn up the belligerent asshole and ruin the meal.

“We’re not having omelets for Thanksgiving dinner.”

As Eliot turned around to place a pan on the counter, Parker appeared out of nowhere, slinging her legs up onto the countertop as she did. He often chastised her for sitting on the counter while he worked, but she did provide company on occasion when he needed it. 

“No, you don’t have omelets for Thanksgiving dinner,” Parker pointed out as she got comfortable next to him.

Hardison took his orange soda and retreated to his computer, where he probably was going to start playing one of those ridiculous games he loved to play. Orcs and dead things and crazy shit that Eliot refused to acknowledge. Nate also wandered away, probably to go look for Sophie, who was nowhere to be seen right at that moment.

Eliot pulled out all the ingredients he was going to need to get started in the morning. He was certain he had everything since he went shopping the day before in the early morning hours. He really didn’t want to deal with all the craziness of the last-minute shoppers trying to find the ingredients for pumpkin pie or stuffing.

“Hey, what kind of pie are you making?”

Parker and her sweets. If it wasn’t chocolate, it was cereal or something else with way too much sugar.

“Pumpkin and apple.”

“Good. I like pie.”

“And cake and whatever else is sweet.”

“I have a sweet tooth. So sue me. Did you buy the pie or are you going to make them?”

Eliot crossed his arms. “Make them.”

“Can I help?”

Eliot looked at Parker’s facial expression and knew she was dead serious.

“Have you ever made pie before?”

“Um, no. Can you teach me?”

“You gotta get up in the morning and not disappear.”

Parker saluted him. “Aye, aye, captain.”

“I put the pies in first while I’m working on all the other stuff.”

Parker then smiled her genuine smile, the one she only used when her team, her family was around. Her eyes always sparkled when she did.

“So you need help then,” Parker responded while she swung her arms back and forth.

How the woman could go from acting like an innocent child to looking alluring was beyond him. As she bent down just slightly, Eliot could see a hint of skin beneath her top. She smelled like strawberries, which was probably her shampoo. He closed his eyes just so he could block out the mischievous glint in her eyes that had just appeared as she bent down.

“Yes, Parker. You can help me,” Eliot agreed.

“Thank you,” Parker responded as she swung her legs hard enough to vault herself off the counter to ram into him, knocking him off balance. “Oops.”

Parker caught his belt buckle to steady him as he opened his eyes. Her sweet kiss on his cheek had him baffled since Parker hardly ever touched any of them unless necessary.

“The guest room only has one bed,” Parker pointed out as she walked to the edge of the kitchen.

“I gotta lot to do in here.”

“Just so you know. Come join us when you can. If you want to.”

If Eliot had been drinking any sort of beverage, he definitely would have performed the most prolific spit take of all time. This was the first time that Parker actually invited him, although it had been implied for several months. Hardison always stuttered around it, but never came out and directly stated that any time he wanted to, they’d make room for him. The implications were there with a big, fat arrow pointed in his direction.

Now he was damn uncomfortable.

Eliot shuffled items around in the kitchen for over an hour trying to decide whether their invitation meant what he thought it meant. No one had come back out of the guest room downstairs. The guest room upstairs was unoccupied, so he could go up there anytime he wanted. Only Nate and Sophie were up there, alone. That was just as uncomfortable as thinking about Hardison and Parker alone in the other room.

So he chopped and sorted, put things away in the refrigerator and took things out as needed. Items were so organized for tomorrow it wouldn’t take him long to put anything together except for cooking everything.

“Thought you’d be off to bed?” Eliot heard a soft voice call out at the foot of the spiral staircase.

“Just sorting things.”

Sophie looked ready for bed, face washed, long pajama top that fell at the top of her knees. Her hair was in a messy bun, glasses perched at the top of her head. In her hands was a book, marked three-fourths of the way through. Socks bunched up around her ankles finished out her ensemble.

“It’ll wait until tomorrow,” Sophie explained the obvious.

“I know. Not tired.”

Oh, he was tired. The last week was very tiring. Exhausting as a matter of fact. He had wanted to sleep for days after the last job. Only Nate took another one so quickly, none of them had time to take a breath. Nate was like that more and more lately, like he was running a race. It was a race that he knew in the end he couldn’t beat. Time was catching up with him and he knew it. Eliot knew it too. It was just a matter of time. After Moreau, it was just a matter of time before Nate couldn’t do this anymore. He wouldn’t tell Sophie that. He wondered if she realized it was coming sooner than later. The man was a wreck emotionally. Adding Sophie to that had made it even more apparent. Nate had softened though, just slightly when it came to Sophie, even though they fought more than ever. He did not want to get in the middle of that.

“No, you’re tired. After that experiment at the college, I’d say you were overtired. It’ll wait until morning.”

“Why are you up?”

Sophie rolled her eyes.

“Oh, just, no reason.”

“It’s amazing how you can lie for a living and not fool me.”

“Thought I put on my best game face. I must be tired also.”

“He piss you off?”

Eliot wondered if this was a good idea right now.

“When does he not? No, it’s not that. Something is wrong. I know that. Whether it’s Latimer or something else. He didn’t drink that much today. Did you know that?”

Oh, so she noticed that too. 

“I kinda had a feeling he didn’t. He was an asshole, but not belligerent.”

“That’s a good way to describe it. Memories, our past, it just doesn’t do a soul any good to dwell.”

Sophie putzed around in the kitchen, found the tea she was looking for while Eliot started the tea kettle for her.

“He usually drinks more when there’s danger.”

“Yes, you’re right. He usually does. This is different.” As Sophie poked around in the refrigerator, she pulled her head back to look him square in the eyes.

“Stuffing. I assume all you Americans love your stuffing. My mum used to make the most amazing stuffing. A little bit of sage, rosemary. Not in the bird, mind you. During Christmastime.”

“Yeah, I don’t stuff the bird anymore because one Thanksgiving my mom just about poisoned us by not cooking it well enough. My dad, he…”

Eliot stopped, remembering the fight that ensued, the yelling and the slamming of doors. It was probably one of the last big fights his parents ever had, before his mother was sick and not able to even lift a finger anymore much less cook.

“Your dad? Was he…”

“Is he. He’s still alive.”

“Oh. Good to know. Was he harsh?”

Eliot leaned up against the counter. “You mean was he physically abusive? No, just one mean son of a bitch at times. Sometimes hard to deal with. I never could do the right thing with him. He never hit anyone.”

“Just wasn’t the most pleasant person to deal with?”

“Right. Kinda like Nate, at times. But Nate. At least I can deal with him, walk away. My dad, I couldn’t walk away. I had to take care of my mom, my sister.”

Why was he telling her all of this?

“But you did. Walk away finally.”

“It was for the best.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Hey. Now I have you guys to yell at me.”

“Eliot, we would never yell at you. Now Nate, I could yell at right about now. He’s shut down.”

“He’s worried.”

Should he tell her what his thoughts were? Nate could pull her down with him if this all went south. Would she recognize it in time?

“Of course he is. Latimer has him worried. He cannot figure out the man’s next move. Neither can I.”

“Sophie, if I tell you something, can you keep it to yourself?”

The look of concern in Sophie’s eyes said it all. 

“Nate’s just not worried. I wouldn’t say he’s frightened, but close to it. We are walking a fine line right now. At least with Moreau, we knew what we were up against. This all just doesn’t make any sense.”

“He’s afraid of pulling us down with him if it all goes to pot.”

So she had realized how worried and afraid Nate was. 

“This is different than Moreau. Moreau could have had us killed if he knew who we were and what we wanted. He didn’t until the very end. Latimer knows everything. Who we are, what we are, all the jobs we have pulled. He’s made millions on those.”

Sophie sipped her now cooling tea, legs crossed at the ankles. Did Nate know that Sophie was possibly as smart as he was? Eliot saw that the man was relying more and more on her expertise and on her planning skills. They were definitely partners now where the first year it was Nate just barking orders.

“You need to tell me. If there’s something.”

“I will. Oh, I will. And so will you.”

Sophie pointed to him with her free hand.

“It’s late.”

“Yes, very much so. He was quite unsettled before I came down here.”

Eliot definitely understood about that.

“Just be careful, Soph. I know. I know how much you care about him.”

“Unfortunately, it’s more than that,” Sophie muttered as she put her cup down at the sink.

“Excuse me?” Eliot asked.

“Oh, nothing.”

“Sounds to me like more than nothing,” Eliot questioned her.

“Just remember the stuffing.”

“Oh I’ll remember the stuffing because you are helping me make it tomorrow.”

“Eliot, I am useless in the kitchen. I burn water.”

“Which means the next time turn off the burner before it boils away. Parker is helping me with the pies. Hardison is going to volunteer himself to help with the sweet potatoes.”

Sophie made a face like she did not care for sweet potatoes.

“There will be regular potatoes too. Don’t worry.”

“Good.”

They both were close to each other at the sink as Sophie washed and rinsed her cup. Instead of just walking away, Sophie took his hand in hers and squeezed. Eliot leaned into her and placed a soft kiss on her forehead.

“Stuffing.”

“You are such the jerk.”

With that, Sophie made her way back upstairs. With a few more things pushed and pulled around the kitchen, Eliot slowly made his way up the stairs to the other guest room. As he made his way down the hall, he heard both Nate’s and Sophie’s voices from the bedroom. Instead of proceeding into the other bedroom, he turned and made his way back down, knowing that if he stayed upstairs, he’d either have to find some headphones to block out the noise or try to put a pillow over his head. They were just too damn noisy.

After brushing his teeth and putting on some sweats, Eliot silently made his way to the other end of the apartment.

As he creeped into the room where Hardison and Parker slept, he wondered if this was a good idea. It was just to sleep, right? A few snuggles and off to dreamland. Parker was already curled up against Hardison’s back in the middle of the bed, so there was room for him to slip in unnoticed. Only he wasn’t unnoticed as Parker then turned to him as he finally made it under the blankets.

“It’s cold,” Parker mumbled.

“You’re a furnace,” Eliot told her because it was true.

She wrapped herself around him, holding on. He didn’t know if this would be very comfortable to sleep, but he’d try. It didn’t take him long before he drifted off to sleep, listening to the sounds of Hardison’s breathing and being warmed by Parker’s body.

Eliot threw the blankets off at some point during the night. Not only was Parker a furnace, but Hardison had decided to spoon against the back of her. It felt like it was a thousand degrees under the blankets. But he slept, hard, which he never did in a strange place. Nate’s apartment wasn’t that strange, and he had slept in this bed on occasion, but never with someone else. Never with two someone elses.

As he looked at the bedside clock, he noticed that it was after eight in the morning. A good eight hours. He hadn’t gotten that much sleep since being injured over a year ago. Then it was forced on him by the medicine he was taking in addition to both Sophie and Parker literally pinning him to the bed. He often wondered if Sophie had slipped him something to make him stay down.

As he turned to look at his companions, he watched both sleep. Parker lay with her arm flung across Hardison’s chest. Her mouth was slightly open in sleep. Hardison, on the other hand, kept puckering his lips here and there while he slumbered on. Eliot did not want to know what that dream was about. Slowly and quietly as he could, Eliot slipped out of bed. Grabbing his extra clothes he kept in the apartment, he made his way to the bathroom just outside the door. Ten minutes later, he was showered and dressed for the day. They all thought he spent hours in the bathroom getting ready for the day ahead. All he needed was a hot shower and a bit of product in his hair and he was ready to go. It helped that they weren’t going anywhere, so having the hair be a bit curly did not matter one bit. He could sneak upstairs and borrow Sophie’s hair dryer at some point anyway if he wanted. Not like Nate used it, ever. He swore that the man did not own a brush or comb.

He wasn’t the first one up. Coffee was already brewing, which probably meant Nate since Sophie did not get up before ten if she wasn’t needed. That’s why helping with the stuffing was her job. 

“Thought you’d be up by now?” Nate asked from across the room.

He was hidden in shadow as he sat at his desk, file folders strewn about the table. 

“Yeah, well, Sophie said I needed sleep. Apparently, she was right.”

“As always,” Nate smirked.

“I’m gonna need help.”

Nate looked up from his desk, a questioning look on his face.

“Case or …”

“Dinner.”

“As you said before, I only make one thing.”

Nate seemed a bit amused for so early in the morning.

“Yeah, be that as it may, I still need help. Parker is on pie duty, Hardison with the sweet potatoes and Sophie is helping with the stuffing. Totally supervising Sophie though.”

“How someone can burn water?”

“That someone was distracted, as I recall.”

Nate looked off in the distance, like he was remembering the incident. He was totally at fault for distracting Sophie, drawing her upstairs without checking to see if she was cooking. They were lucky that Eliot had come back for something or the sprinklers would have gone off, ruining Hardison’s equipment.

“So what do you want me to do?”

“I’ll ask when the time comes.”

“Not like we’re going anywhere,” Nate said as he pointed outside.

Eliot had not managed to look outside yet. All he could see from the doorway to the guest bathroom was bright white. As he peered through the window, snow was gently falling from the sky, coating the outside in white. Silence seemed to envelope their world for once. It was kind of nice he thought. No phone calls, no clients, no plans, no cons, no comms, no potential issues coming up that he had to be prepared for. No bad guys, no good guys, no bad guys that were sort of good guys. Just the five of them.

“Pie,” Eliot heard from the doorway to the bedroom.

Nate just rolled his eyes and settled down, buried in paperwork. He still didn’t know why Nate had to have paper instead of having everything on the computer.

“Parker, breakfast.”

“Can we have pie for breakfast?”

“No,” both Nate and Eliot answered in unison.

“Why don’t I cook breakfast?” Nate offered as he got up from his desk a few minutes later.

“Omelets again?” Parker grumped.

“You need the protein. Besides, I ain’t fixing lunch. Just deal.”

Parker still smiled though, knowing that Eliot would fix her anything she asked of him within reason.

“I want tomatoes, mushrooms, and candy.”

“Parker,” Nate chastised the younger woman.

“Yeah, candy and mushrooms together might be gross.”

“Might be?” Eliot questioned her choice.

Nate set about making omelets, knowing almost exactly what everyone took in theirs now that he’d made them a few times over the course of the last year or so. 

Sophie wandered downstairs, robe pulled tight against her body. Nate didn’t even have to ask her what she wanted to drink. He handed her a cup of tea even before she asked.

“He can’t read minds, Eliot. He set the damn alarm clock. I had to get up to turn the thing off.”

“For a minute there….”

“I smell food,” Eliot heard from Hardison across the room. “And it’s not burning, so it isn’t Sophie.”

“No one will ever let me live that one down.”

“Even I haven’t burned water.”

“Me either,” Parker joined in.

“Don’t look at me,” Nate said as he plated the last of the omelets that he had constructed.

It didn’t take long for the omelets to be consumed with Hardison even rubbing his belly a time or two. Or possibly three. He wasn’t counting, and neither was Eliot.

After the cleanup, which Nate had chastised Sophie into doing, Eliot set out all the makings for the pies he was going to make.

“Me, me. Pick me.”

He had already picked Parker to help him out. Besides, everyone else had disappeared as soon as breakfast had been cleaned up. It was amazing how fast Hardison vanished when there were dishes to be done. Nate must have wandered upstairs with Sophie because his coffee cup was gone. And he hadn’t even broken out any whiskey, yet. Progress was progress.

“You’ve never made pies before?” Eliot started to question the eager blonde standing next to him.

“No. Should I have?”

“No. Not everyone bakes.”

He showed her how to cut up the apples while he prepared the mix for the pumpkin one. He hadn’t realized how good Parker was with a knife. She had the job done much quicker than he thought she could accomplish. All the while, she smiled as she peeled, sliced and diced the fruit for the pie. 

“There a reason for the face?” he finally had to ask.

“This is my first real Thanksgiving.”

Eliot had thought to choke down a shallow of coffee before hearing her answer. He coughed on it when he heard her answer.

“You never had turkey and, and…”

“Sort of. I mean, some of the foster families would fix the meal. Sometimes they’d share. Sometimes not. One time I was in juvie, one time I was on my own. Then I was in France one time. Not like they celebrate an American holiday. Then other times I just forgot.”

Eliot often wondered how and when Parker ate. She wasn’t much of a cook, ate cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and thought chocolate was a food group. When had anyone invited her for a Thanksgiving dinner? Hell, none of them had celebrated together since joining Leverage. They were either working, drinking or hiding. Or all three if you were Nate. Hardison probably celebrated. Why would Sophie? Nate did too, although the past few years, definitely not. He thought the man was going to protest when Eliot told him he was cooking this year. Not a word came out of Nate’s mouth. He probably just wanted to eat Eliot’s cooking.

If Eliot could, he’d go back in time and rescue Parker from her crappy existence. That wouldn’t make her who she was today though. He liked who she was, every bump, every goofy, maniacal laugh, every gesture that made Parker the unique person that she was.

“I’m here now. It’s all good.”

Yes, it was all good. As they worked side by side, Eliot relaxed into the process as Parker enjoyed herself immensely. Once all the fillings were made, Eliot put together the crusts with Parker’s help. No premade for him. Once that was done (with flour now everywhere), he showed her how to pour in the mixtures for both.

“Lots and lots of sugar,” Parker commented as the apple pie was finally put together. “Apple is now my favorite.”

“What was your favorite before?”

“Peach. My mom, I can remember peach. The smell. I don’t remember what she looked like or who she was. I just remember the smell of fresh peach cobbler.”

Jesus, this was the first time Parker had ever mentioned one of her parents. He often wondered if she remembered either one of them. The fact that her brother had died when she was young, Eliot thought that she probably wouldn’t remember her mother.

“So I’d gorge myself on peach cobbler whenever I could, which was not often. This smells good.”

That probably why he sometimes smelled peach on her when he got close. Not her shampoo, he surmised. He grasped her hand quickly, then pulled it away to put the pies in the oven.

“I’m ok, Eliot. I have you guys now.”

Turning to look at her, he noticed the unshed tears in her eyes. Parker was not a crier, often holding it in when the situation warranted a tear or two. That’s the way all of them were most of the time. 

“You do. And don’t you ever forget that,” he answered in return, pulling her into an embrace.

Breathing deeply against him, she pulled away to wipe her eyes from any moisture, huffing like this was it for her with the strong emotions.

“Ok, how long?”

“How long what?” Eliot answered, not realized what she was asking.

“Timer?”

“Oh, oh. Fifty minutes, then we check to make sure they’re both cooked.”

Parker saluted him like he was the general in charge, and skipped away from the kitchen quickly, ponytail bouncing as she did.

Eliot calculated in his head how long it would take for each dish as the pies did their thing in the oven. If they wanted to have dinner by 5pm, then he’d have to get the bird in no later than 1pm. It would take some doing, but it was totally going to happen. A schedule was a schedule. He cleaned and dried the potatoes, peeled and cut them up, getting them ready to go when it was time. 

“Oh, I thought, you know. Sweet potatoes.”

Hardison was standing at the counter watching him peel the regular potatoes.

“They’re next. Get in here. You need to start the prep.”

“Prep?”

“Yeah.”

Eliot showed Hardison what he wanted the hacker to do. Hardison seemed to take the job seriously, just like Parker. That was good, Eliot thought. The more serious, the better. When Hardison didn’t take things seriously, it just ticked Eliot off. That was probably why Hardison did what he did.

“It takes about an hour to cook in the oven. Once the pies come out, the potatoes go in. Once the potatoes are done, then the turkey goes in.”

“It’s like a damn dance. I’d never be able to figure this out.”

“That’s why you have me. What?” Eliot asked Hardison.

Hardison just rolled his eyes a bit at Eliot’s declaration. 

“Cooking isn’t just mixing things together. There’s planning involved. Kind of like a job, only it’s food you can eat instead of millions in your bank account.”

“Considering lately, it’s not been squat in our bank accounts, I guess I’ll have to take your delicious meals as payment.”

Eliot grinned back at him. “You can’t live on orange soda and gummy frogs alone.”

“Nah, man. I do eat, you know. Much better now that you cook for us. I’ve always liked a good steak.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you do. I don’t burn it.”

Eliot thought he might just be a bit full of himself, but around Hardison, he’d still boast just because he could. Hardison did the same thing, but it always dealt with his hacking skills.

“This turkey better be good. I mean, I thought you was gonna fry it or something.”

“Fry it?”

“Southern thing.”

“Like deep fry it? I’ve done that before. It’s good, tender, fall off the bone. It’s just too damn cold outside to do it. And I’d have to go up and down the stairs to the roof. Gonna fry it. Yeah, right. And I’d miss football.”

“Next year?”

After shooing out Hardison, Eliot cleaned up whatever he could because once things started going in and out of the oven and he had to baste the turkey, he really didn’t want to deal with the cleaning.

Parker appeared forty minutes later since it took he and Hardison ten minutes to prep the potatoes to go in the oven.

“Done?” Parker asked as she smiled his way.

The apartment was now full of the smells of pies. Eliot showed Parker how to tell whether they were done or not. Putting them in for a few more minutes, Eliot turned to see Hardison standing behind Parker now.

“Ready?”

Seeing the two of them, like two giddy children on Thanksgiving, waiting for dinner to be ready, it took him back to when his mother was alive. She did the same thing with he and his sister. They’d help their mother prepare the meal, right down to setting the table with her finest china. Once things were shuffled and the potatoes were in the oven, Eliot was able to sigh a bit in relief. He really did not want to mess up Parker’s first pies. They both looked perfect, just like the two individuals standing in front of him, having an animated conversation about what video to watch. 

“Charlie Brown Thanksgiving,” Parker added.

“Man, football is going to be on at any time.”

“Then let’s watch it nowwwww,” Parker howled, which got Sophie attention from the stairs.

“Time for stuffing?” Sophie asked as she came down the stairs.

“Not yet. About an hour we’ll start chopping.”

“We don’t have real chairs to watch it,” Parker pointed out. 

There were only the work chairs that faced the screens that Hardison used to display all his information for each job.

“Nate has a TV upstairs. And a sofa.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Hardison chided as they all marched upstairs to watch a Thanksgiving classic.

The four of them settled down, with Parker on the floor since there wasn’t enough room on the sofa for four people. They were a few minutes into the video when Nate came out of the bathroom, towel around his neck. Eliot could see the look on his face, like he was bothered that they all had invaded his personal space. Then he realized right at the same time Nate had glanced at the television. Nate often tried to hide things that reminded him of his son. Whether it was a child on a bike or one walking down the street, Nate could never keep that game face up perfectly for long. 

“Nate, come sit,” Sophie offered, getting up from her spot to sit on the floor beside Parker.

“I, um, have work and it’s…”

“Work? It’s Thanksgiving,” Hardison protested. “See, Franklin. He’s cool. Pigpen on the other hand? Not cool.”

Sophie reached her hand out to him. She knew, Eliot thought. If there was one person who could read their mastermind with just a look, it was Sophie. Eliot could read him often, but there were times when he held what he was doing so close to the vest, Eliot wanted to punch the man. Now of course, was definitely not one of those times.

“It’s just, I should…”

“Shhh,” Parker shushed Nate. “Sit down.”

Nate reluctantly sat down next to Hardison. Sophie sat between his legs, leaning up against the front of the sofa, legs stretched out in front of her.

“Switch,” Hardison declared, not able to stretch his long legs out in front of him with both Parker and Sophie now crowding him. Sophie switched places, now in the middle of Eliot and Nate. They all settled down to watch as Charlie Brown and Snoopy played on the television. 

Eliot hadn’t seen this video in years, so he got a chance to enjoy it once again. Maybe it wasn’t so bad, Eliot thought. He got to spend time with all of them without running commentary. It was over before he knew it and since the timer was about to go off on the sweet potatoes, it was time to roust Hardison to teach him all about the fine art of making his favorite dish for Thanksgiving.

Sophie wandered into the kitchen an hour later, hair up in a messy ponytail. She was dressed down for the holiday, with comfortable jeans and a soft sweater. That didn’t mean her outfit still didn’t cost an arm and a leg. She just looked casual.

“So?” she started to ask as she walked into the kitchen.

“Chop these,” he ordered her.

She shook her head yes and started her job in earnest. They quietly worked together, chopping and mixing until Eliot was satisfied with the results. He knew that Sophie wasn’t a good cook, but she took his directions seriously, unlike Hardison did an hour before.

“Something on your mind?” Sophie finally asked as the stuffing went in the oven.

“It’s just, I thought that today was going to be harder than it’s been. I kept thinking that everyone would complain, there’d be yelling and slamming of doors, maybe a few tears.”

Eliot wiped his hands dry as he set the timer, which he had almost forgotten. The other oven was ready for the bird, which was resting on the counter in his large roaster that he had brought from his place just for this occasion.

“We can surprise you. Besides, it was a good idea getting everyone involved.”

“See, sometimes I even have good ideas. Even if Nate doesn’t think I do.”

Eliot looked down at his feet, ready for Sophie to negate what he had just mentioned. At times, she could take Nate’s side in a split second, taking Eliot on for something that had occurred on a job. But sometimes, Eliot just wished she would see it his way and his way only, Nate be damned.

“You have plenty of good ideas. What you don’t have is a pathway into that brain of his. Even I sometimes cannot predict what he has planned. It can be quite frustrating at times. Do you trust him?”

Now that question threw him for a loop. Eliot sat there for a moment, trying to figure out how to answer the question without Sophie getting angry with him.

“I do trust him. I just don’t understand him.”

“And you think that women are hard to understand.”

Eliot chuckled at her comparison. “No, I do think women are much easier to understand and if I don’t, believe me, I certainly can find out.”

“He’s not been in a sharing mode lately. I know that. You know that. This thing with Latimer has him shaken.”

It was rare that anything shook their fearless leader, even Moreau. The only thing that messed with Nate’s head was putting any of them in physical danger. 

“I can do my job.”

“It has nothing to do with whether you can do your job. It has to do with the fact that we don’t know what’s behind this. Or who is behind this. Listen, Latimer is not smart enough to pull this off the whole time we’ve been operating. There has to be an end game. We just don’t know what it is yet.”

Eliot had been contemplating the same thing, that there was something that they were missing about all of this.

“So what do we do?” he asked the grifter.

“Make stuffing and turkey and gorge ourselves silly. Then tomorrow we get back to work.”

The turkey was done, everything was ready, the table was set, and the drinks were poured. Eliot counted himself lucky that Parker hadn’t bolted, Hardison had stayed out of his way, and Nate wasn’t too drunk to enjoy the meal. He probably had Sophie to thank for that, although lately he felt that Sophie’s influence over Nate’s drinking had nothing to do with her complaints but more to do with the fact that she was always around. One addiction for another? Eliot wasn’t complaining. He’d rather be devoted to a woman than the bottom of a bottle.

“Let’s eat,” Parker said gleefully. She had some kind of headband on with a turkey on top that bounced every time she turned.

Hardison had actually changed out of his latest t-shirt, exchanging it for a soft sweater of burnt orange. 

“Please don’t tell me you have a seating chart?” Sophie playfully asked as they started to sit at their regular spots at the table. 

“No, there isn’t a kids’ table unless Hardison brings that damn soda to the table. Then all bets are off.”

“I will be civilized at least at this dinner,” Hardison joked back.

The wine was poured as Hardison lit the candles. Nate kept looking at Eliot, a question on his face. He hadn’t asked Nate to do anything, yet. Trotting back to the kitchen, Eliot grabbed the thing that he wanted Nate to use. The man started to move when Eliot approached the table, like he needed Nate to get out of the way to perform the task he had saved for their leader. Flipping the knife around, he gestured for Nate to take the sharp object along with the large fork he had in the other hand.

“I want you to carve the turkey,” Eliot finally announced.

“I, um, are you sure?” Nate asked warily.

“Yeah.”

“You’re better with knives,” Nate said as he started to hand the cutlery back to the chef.

“The head of the family carves the turkey.”

Eliot looked at everyone else’s faces. Parker grinned widely, Hardison shook his head yes and Sophie’s eyes were wide with astonishment. It was Nate’s look of bewilderment that had Eliot wondering if he had made the right choice.

“Oh. You’re right. Don’t complain if I don’t do it right.”

“Nobody cares what shape it’s in when you eat it,” Hardison pointed out.

Eliot sat down to Nate’s right, while Sophie was on Nate’s left. Nate always sat at the head of the table. No one had ever mentioned that was the position that Nate always took when they all sat down at the table. It was just a given. Parker twisted in her seat beside Eliot while Hardison politely sat still beside Sophie.

It only took Nate a few minutes to carve enough turkey for their meal. He then served each side dish to each plate and passed them to each person. Eliot was afraid that Parker would balk at having so much on her plate since her palate was still developing. She didn’t eat just anything. It was sometimes tough to get her to eat anything other than cereal on certain days. She sat there in awe of the plate that was passed to her.

Hardison snuck in a nibble while Nate finished up with his own plate and sat down.

“Dammit, Hardison. Stop,” Eliot chastised. 

“Oops. I haven’t eaten all day. Hope we can have seconds.”

Another one that if Eliot didn’t feed him, he’d live on gummy frogs and Hot Pockets. Throw a pizza in, and Hardison could live for months on crap in addition to drinking his weight or more in orange soda almost daily. Maybe Eliot was exaggerating. He had to move a lot of it out of the refrigerator just to fit all the things for Thanksgiving. Eliot didn’t know how Nate stood having his refrigerator taken over by the four of them.

“Can we eat?” Sophie asked as she took a sip of her wine.

Before Eliot could answer, Nate raised his glass.

“To everyone. I’m not good with words.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“And, here we go.”

“How about let’s eat?” Parker finished, not letting the others dampen her enthusiasm for the holiday. 

Nate just rolled his eyes at all the sarcasm at the table.

“I am thankful for this meal and the person, or should I say people, that have made it. Thank you.”

Everyone raised their glasses. It didn’t take long for each of them to empty their plates, with both Hardison and Parker taking seconds.

Eliot was thankful that they had made it to this Thanksgiving. There were times, plenty of times, that he thought they’d either split up or not make it out alive. Neither was acceptable. As he watched them talk and laugh, he realized that he was right where he needed to be. His family.


End file.
